


Let go

by Vault_Emblem



Series: VerV Week [3]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessed Sex, Post DMC5, V is still inside Vergil, VerV Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 12:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20506748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vault_Emblem/pseuds/Vault_Emblem
Summary: V teaches Vergil how to let himself go.(Written for VerV Week | Prompts: Nsfw, You and I are one)





	Let go

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on tumblr [@bi-naesala](https://bi-naesala.tumblr.com) and on twitter [@vault_emblem](https://twitter.com/vault_emblem)

As soon as Vergil wakes up, he knows there’s something weird going on. He _feels_ weird, but he can’t exactly pinpoint the reason why.

Maybe he had a nightmare, and yet that seems unlikely: since his halves have been reunited, he never dreamt, less than anything having nightmares. Also he feels like he could be able to tell if that was actually the case, and yet he does have the hunch that dreams might have something to do with this.

He doesn’t remember exactly what he dreamt, but he remembers black hair, plump and smirking lips, inky marks on pearly skin…

He notices later than his hand is traveling downwards on his body but when he does, he can’t help but to be surprised: he… he wasn’t planning for any of this.

And yet, as much as he tries to pull away, the hand doesn’t answer to his will.

What’s going on?!

\- Ssssh -, a voice says, and Vergil realizes immediately that it’s a voice in his head, even though he never heard this man, and yet it sounds familiar, like it’s a part of him, - Let me take care of you -.

Vergil should be more weary of something like this – mind games have become his worst enemy a long time ago – but this feels safe, and besides he can’t deny some sort of morbid curiosity as to where this voice wants to lead him.

He can feel the mysterious man smirk against his neck, even though nobody’s there, as it purrs “Good boy” at the way Vergil relaxes again, allowing it to move his body as it wants.

There’s still some resistance at the back of his mind, but it’s soon silenced.

He can see him again, the man from his dream; tall and lean, black wavy hair, tattoos all over his body.

He’s smirking and Vergil can feel the sensation of his body being caressed.

\- Let me -, he says, voice like honey, but Vergil is still resisting.

\- Let yourself submit to me, just once -.

It sounds more like a plea than an order, and despite this going against everything he stands for, something inside Vergil is pushing him to let himself be vulnerable – it’s safe for him to do so.

He submits.

He bites his lower lip when his hand palms him through his pants; it’s beginning to become a lot much faster than he was expecting.

\- Let yourself go -, the voice encourages him, but Vergil is able to discern a hint of teasing in what he said. Maybe this is why he actually gets even more hellbent on not making any sound, something that the other man takes as a challenge.

\- Suit yourself -, he whispers, simple words that carry the promise of more troubles to come, but Vergil’s ready, or better, he _thinks_ he’s ready.

He doesn’t know the reason of such a thing, but every touch burns, a pleasant burn that makes him shiver and makes it even harder to hold his voice. It might be because even if it’s his body moving _it’s not actually him _commanding it.

Despite himself, this particular is managing to turn him on more than it should, and in fact as the man makes him shove his hand inside, he finds an already hardened cock waiting for him.

The man is not gentle however, and for now he’s settling on small, teasing touches of Vergil’s thumb over the head, pressing slightly against the slit. Vergil tries to move his hips, to get more friction, but his legs don’t answer to him anymore, as the rest of his body.

\- So impatient -, the voice teases, and Vergil almost snarls back.

\- Who do you think you are? -, he manages to mutter, uncaring that, to a third person, he would look like a madman talking to nobody.

He hears the man chuckle and he can’t help a slight hint of shame for being ridiculed in such manner.

\- Someone you need, Vergil, that’s who I am -.

When the hand _finally_ closes around his cock, a sigh leaves Vergil’s lips before he can even try to hold it in, but he is rewarded as the man makes him move with a quick pace.

Waves of pleasure wash through Vergil, who closes his eyes at the sensation, but that doesn’t seem to be the right thing to do, at least not according to the man in control.

He feels as if someone has yanked his hair, pulling his head up; it hurts and still Vergil moans at the feeling, cursing himself for this show of weakness. His eyes snap open and like this he has the perfect view of how his hand is moving around his cock. Up and down, up and down.

\- Look at yourself -, the voice whispers, heavy and Vergil doesn’t want to listen to it, doesn’t absolutely want to, and yet he can’t look away as his gaze follows his hand without a moment of distraction.

His scalp still hurts and his head is beginning to spin. He’s never experienced something this intense, but he finds himself wanting _more_.

The man must’ve read his thoughts, because Vergil’s hand begins to move faster, but it still isn’t enough, and both of them know it.

Vergil thinks he knows what game the other is playing, but he doesn’t want to give in just yet. How long will his determination last, however? Not that much, actually: moans begin to leave his lips at the sight in front of him and at the pleasure he’s bringing himself. They begin small, but the more he moans, the faster the hand goes, and the more he can feel it squeeze. Suddenly even his other hand move, roaming across his chest, and Vergil shivers when he pinches his own nipple from under his shirt, and he yelps as he does it again and again until it’s completely hard, and even then it keeps going, even as he gets more and more sensitive.

\- Like this -, the voice encourages him, and another wave of pleasure hits Vergil.

\- Like this -, and he feels his whole body shake.

\- Like this -, and he groans again, higher this time.

\- _Say my name_ -.

Vergil furrows his brow in frustration; he doesn’t want to say his name – because as much as he’d like to play the fool, he _knows_ who this is.

He doesn’t want to show such weakness, he doesn’t want to admit that yes, he needs him.

He should look away, but his gaze doesn’t move; it’s transfixed on witnessing how much pleasure he’s giving himself, and as he keeps going it becomes harder and harder for Vergil to resist.

\- _Please_… -.

Ironically, it’s easier for him to beg than to comply with his request, as shameful as even that is to someone as prideful as Vergil.

The man laughs, and with that Vergil frustration grows, but it still isn’t enough for him to give in.

It’s when Vergil’s hand stops completely that he understands that he’ll really have to say it if he wants any release.

He tries to move on his own, to finish what he started, but no matter how hard he tries the hand is still there, squeezing the base of his cock so hard that it hurts, and no frustrated growl will convince the man to spare him.

\- _Veeeeergil _-.

Vergil bites his lips, trying to focus.

It’s too much. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

\- … _V_ -.

He shivers as soon as his hand resumes moving, and he moans when he hears the man whisper right in his ear:

\- Good boy -.

It’s shameful how fast Vergil comes. It takes him completely by surprise, as a last moan escapes his lips.

His hand still keeps going to the point that it hurts, and only then it finally stops, and Vergil can move again as he pleases.

Not that he does much: after the high of the orgasm, a sense of tiredness has spread through of him, and Vergil slumps against the bed, not even caring about how damp the sheets are and how sweaty he is.

It was so intense that he feels completely devoid of any energy. He hasn’t felt anything similar ever, but he still can’t help but to feel a slight irritation at the notion that it was all thanks to V.

As if he had read his thoughts – but well, he can, of course he can – V chuckles, and Vergil feels the distinct sensation of someone caressing his body, but again nobody’s actually there beside him.

\- You’re welcome -, V says, and if only Vergil wasn’t this tired, he would’ve replied with something snarky.

He can’t even open his mouth however, and his eyelids are too heavy for Vergil to keep his eyes open.

He falls asleep again, a deep slumber, and he swears, he can see him again.


End file.
